Rhode Island School of Design - Portfolio Yearbook (Providence, RI)

Page 29 text:

x ie RIE 6 2eoe ate nz une aN When the cloud-lands have opened above us revealing Eternity’s scene, If Heaven is knowing once more the beautiful things that have been, When the R. LS. D. is transported to some sphere more worthy than this, Will the trivial events of the present form part of our heavenly bliss? Will charming Miss P. utter luscious at Jap. prints of heritage rare? Will blue-green be the favorite color of our Mr. C——rk over there? Will all help be given the hopefuls on the opposite side of the room, While the others plod drearily onward in the grimmest and blackest of gloom? Will Salome come rushing in breathless, her Psych. book beginning to cram, Crying, “I’m just starting to read it and at ’leven we have the exam!” Will Francesca be taking attendance with stern, unforgivable pen? Will Nervy be copying Durer, or he her in the wonderful Then? Will Maggie’s desk ever be tilted without the inevitable man? Can we others learn to “look at them the way Miss F—ler can?” Will Design compel two young maidens to sacrifice even their Life? Will B—— Nye paint in blues and in yellow ad. lib. at the point of the knife? Will B. Bellows plan suites for immortals in vibrant ethereal hues? And will that chaotic perspective exist in those unbounded Blues? Will Miss A deride “Old Rose and Silver” drowning John in the deep- est despair? Will Miss R—— be eternally famous for the “olive lights in her hair?” Will E. E—le entertain local artists each day at 2.30 p. m.? Will L. Adams draw like a Master and then her own efforts condemn? Will shining cathedrals be studded with windows designed by Miss Wright, Dispelling the fancy that genius can ever be measured by height?

Page 28 text:

Up stairs, and stairs, and other stairs, With groans you climb still higher, And reach at last the Portrait Class, The acme of desire. A strange array of painted things Now greets your mundane vision, The easels hide the model’s pose, But “Jimmy’s” a safe decision. See what a quiet class it is. Oh yes! the “Professor’s” just left. Some values are high and some spirits low, And some are of smiles bereft. Now Heinie will tell the latest Keith jokes And Rittmann of soldiers and drills, The talk contains prize fights, murders and snakes, And gives you all kinds of thrills. Frazier is twined ’round an easel or post, Perhaps viewing his work with a frown? Mirs. S—— will carol the “Tit Willow” song With a spirit you never could down. Mr. Black paints imperturbably on. That mysterious mediums use Has made him a master without any doubt, We'll pay gold for that very same juice. You’ve seen enough of the Portrait Class; I’m sure it has been a treat. There are palettes to clean and brushes to wash. Who’s put on the water to heat? Hope Gladding.

Page 30 text:

Will W. P.’s famous book-plates embellish the heavenly shelves? Will Miss S—— and Miss H—— murmur popular songs in a corner all off by themselves? We know that Laughlin and Valva will indulge in occasional feuds, But because of their infinite genius be excused for their artist-like moods. We're certain that John, the all faithful, be he playing about upon Mars, Or fashioning wonderful jewels, tiaras of clustering stars, Will leap from his innocent pastime with vigorous athletic springs And hasten with speed to the office when Miss Danforth gives those three rings. But listen, the lunch bell is sounding a call to the weary and wise, To revel in sponge cake, spaghetti, corn chowder and turnover pies. So now let us lay by our dreaming of life on a far away star— Contented with life as we live it, enjoying things as they are. Florence Clark.